When I was a kid, one of the things I liked beyond shadow of a doubt–and still like–to play with is a toy car. The irresistible attraction of those minuscule cars remained intact up to this time.
Looking back at how I envied my playmates who had plenty of toy cars, I can’t help but pity myself for failing to demand the things I wanted as a kid from my struggling parents. The reason was, toys are but nonessential items for families like us who are financially challenged. The wasak-wasak (our patois for the word “donated”) playthings from our well-off relatives complemented the yearning. At a very young age, I had already digested the struggles visible in our day-to-day life as holding device for my then petty demands. I learned how to bottle up the envy I had for my classmates and playmates who had a good supply of those stuff. Asking for a new toy from my parents was tantamount to insulting them. In spite of this unfortunate situation, I am proud that we were in that position back in the days because I would not have fully comprehended the meanings of contentment and blessing now.
The penchant I have for these liliputian cars went into hibernation for quite sometime till the day I received my first paycheck six years ago. I passed by this store selling toys on my way home and upon seeing this red car displayed on its entrance as part of their “on sale” items, my feet were instantly magnetized. I could not hide how marveled I was while holding and examining the little car. I transformed into a little boy instantly as I was caressing the every part of this Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1. The state of yearning that wounded my childhood suddenly turned into a state of bliss as I approached the cashier’s desk. That was the time I started collecting toy cars, sporadically.
After three years, I had 71 toy cars in my special booth (where I parked them) at home. I had stopped pumping the number because of financial constraints since I reached that total. Eighty percent of these cars were from my purse and the remaining twenty came from my officemates and wife. To date, I would still have a total of 71 if only my playmate was older enough to understand my sentiment towards preserving these cars.
Then my little boy who reached the age of two last year, stole the scene.
On the 16th day of October last year, three days days after my son’s birthday and after repeated arguments with my wife on whether or not I should share my precious hot wheels with my son who’s been begging to touch them, I decided to give in under two conditions: I will only share the inexpensive ones (below P100) to my son and my wife should watch over him as he plays with them–for the hope of preservation. For the record, I already gave countless inexpensive cars to him since he started showing interest in these pretty little cars. The problem is, each time he gets bored with his stuff, he will use his howling superpowers to have me succumb to his supplication. That is, to let him play with my nicer, more expensive cars. I didn’t give in that easy of course. I had three justifications for doing that. First, the cars are apt for three years old and above. Second, I couldn’t bear the thought of watching my precious cars dilapidated by his innocent hands. The last is, I will only give my little boy’s divvy when he reach the age of three which is just three months from now. TRUST ME WHEN I SAY, THERE’S MORE TO THIS SENTIMENT THAN ANYBODY COULD GRASP. Then again, I completely know how he feels whenever he tries to supplicate for my cars so I did what I think was favorable for him.
I thought my condition was clear to my wife. A week ago, I found out that 40 cars were already bated from the total of my four-by-fours when I checked on their booth. That’s nine months since I let my son enjoy the cars. I was bolt from the blue when I saw the gaps indicating the subtraction that took place. The pestering thing was my wife excluded nothing from my collection. By inspecting each of the cars revealed little and big cracks and scratches. Looking at these defacements, especially on my set of luxury cars, smashed my heart.
So right after cogitating on what happened, I decided to keep the 31 cars left for myself (or I’m going to experience wailing for these pretty little cars again like before). My son had enough of those anyway. In exchange for the selfishness, I assured him that I’ll buy an expensive toy car on his third birthday this October.
I want the cars I hid in these three boxes to be displayed on a special spot in our house, soon. This explains the selfishness of keeping the little boy in my heart.
Here is the list of what’s left on the booth and on the very long list I once had:
1. 1993 Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1
2. 2001 Mini Cooper
3. The Battery Operated Racing Car from our Department Head who really touched my heart with the note she pasted on her gift to me last Christmas.
4. Porsche Carrera GT-2000
5. Lamborghini Murcielago-2003
6. Porsche 911 GT2
7. Aston Martin DB9
8. 2009 Nissan GT-R
9. 2009 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34
10. 1969 Ford Torrino Talledaga
11. Custom 1964 Galaxie
12. 1964 Impala TM GM
13. Urban Agen A46 Cabbin Fever (2000)
14. Prototype H-24
15. Yellow Fire Eater (1976)
16. Type 3 Racing Car
17. 4 CV Barquette Des Records Vernet-Pairard (1952)
18. 4CV Berlin Type R 1063 (1953)
19. 4CV Affaires (1954)
20. Road Champ Car
21. The Eleven “Microscopic” Cars
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